You're In the Doghouse Now
by Rat Insatiable
Summary: Frisk is no good at jumping those bones. (It's clean, folks.)


Frisk woke up on a smelly dog bed. Little white hairs stuck into the fabric poked the back of their neck.

They weren't dead, for some reason.

They hadn't been entirely ready for what happened in that fight. That much they could admit. They'd been so busy mentally repeating Sans's advice of "blue stop signs." Then their _soul_ had turned blue, throwing them off from the first bone onward.

Frisk had scrambled against the newfound weight of their soul to keep up with Papyrus's suddenly-dangerous attacks, but fell to their bruised knees within minutes. They'd lifted their head, breathless and aching, trying to focus on the next move.

"Human! You're too weak!" Papyrus said. "And you know what that means!"

Papyrus approached with swift, meaningful strides, and Frisk clenched their hands in the stinging snow.

"That's right!" Papyrus's boots stopped a few inches from Frisk's face. "You're officially my capturee!"

Frisk sensed movement from above, and reflexively ducked their head.

Gloved hands gripped them around their middle, and Frisk wooshed up through the wintry fog. Too surprised to yelp, Frisk landed with a soft thump, draped over one of Papyrus's homemade shoulder guards.

Papyrus sped out of the fog, holding Frisk securely with one hand. "Off to the capture zone with you! Also known as the doghouse! And the garage! It's amazingly convenient!"

Papyrus came to a sudden stop. Frisk stared at the proud tatters in Papyrus's scarf as a key jingled into a lock. A doorknob rattled; struggling didn't even occur to them.

The door opened, and the snowy terrain wooshed away from Frisk as Papyrus carried them into the shed. Then _whump_ —back-first onto a lopsided dog bed. Lesser Dog-smell clung to everything.

"Now be good! I have almost-immediate-future-Royal Guard business to attend to."

Frisk stared at the ceiling, stunned on multiple levels, as Papyrus ran back outside. " _Yes!_ Undyne's gonna be _so_ proud of me!" The door slammed, reducing Papyrus's cheering to a joyful, receding murmur.

They must have dozed off after that, if Frisk's aching neck and shoulders meant anything. They sat up from the mostly-flat dog bed with a sigh, and tried to rub away some of the soreness.

Not much to see in the world's most convenient shed. The much-loved squeak toy and dish full of kibble matched their expectations.

The note next to the food bowl was what drew Frisk to walk across the room. They picked the paper up, read it, and gave it a sad smile. _I'm the one who should be sorry._

Frisk put the note back, and turned to the row of wooden supports to their left. Then it clicked—those were cage bars. Made by Papyrus. Two people standing side by side would walk through them with inches to spare. Another smile tugged at Frisk's face, this time with a little more humor.

They didn't know who Undyne was, and they weren't waiting around to find out. Frisk passed through the bars, put a hand on the doorknob, and stopped.

If they left now, would they run into Papyrus, returning with that Undyne person? If Papyrus saw them outside...

Frisk's stomach twisted as they imagined Papyrus's response. They never wanted to fight him, but somehow, causing him further disappointment was worse.

"I don't know what my brother's going to do now," Sans had said. Like he could sense Frisk's reluctance.

They stared at the doorknob. Anyone with thumbs could free themselves from the capture zone. Quietly, they undid the lock, and opened the door.

The quaint snowy town was the same as ever under perpetual night. Frisk closed the door to the shed with a soft click, and faced the frosty fog shrouding the path out of Snowdin.

Frisk took a few steps forward, paused, and squinted. _It can't be._ They plunged into the fog, and—

" _There_ you are! I was afraid you'd gotten lost!"

Frisk flinched to a stop. The skeleton's tall silhouette appeared a second later.

"Lost?" They frowned. "But I was in your shed."

"For a ridiculously long time!" Papyrus said, agitation in every word. Then he caught himself. "Wait, how'd you even escape?! You were supposed to stay captured!"

Something pinged, and Frisk stumbled to stay on their feet. They were blue again.

Frisk was even less ready this time. They didn't know how long they'd slept in the shed, but it hadn't been enough if they were struggling to jump over the shortest bones.

Frisk clenched their fists. _No. Not this time._ The next round of bones approached, and they willed careful, floaty jumps over and between them. Their limbs, their soul, and the freezing air dragged at them, but they'd done it.

It made for poor motivation. Frisk had a reason for pushing past the Ruins to the greater Underground, and focusing on it didn't help.

Papyrus boasted about his upcoming promotion, a source of brightness in the frosty haze. It made Frisk want to fight him even less, and they sank to their bare knees in the snow.

"You're doing it again, human! Can't you take the drama and gallantry of me capturing you more seriously?!"

Frisk snapped their head up and scrambled clumsily to their feet, swaying for one precarious moment.

They waited for bones. What they got was a tsk-ing noise, and Papyrus approaching with those same purposeful strides.

"Wait," Frisk said. Their toes had gone numb in their beat-up, sockless shoes.

"I can see where this is going." Papyrus's features became clearer as he closed in. "You're giving yourself up. I understand completely! I'd surrender to me, too."

"But—" Frisk's words caught in their throat as Papyrus swept them up and dumped them over his shoulder again.

"You won't want to escape _this_ time!" Papyrus didn't even try to make it sound like a threat.

Frisk weakly thumped their forehead on the back of Papyrus's armor and groaned, "Nooo."

"Yes!" Papyrus argued. "And you're going to love it!"

He sat Frisk on the dog bed with less exuberance this time. Frisk was too drained to look up until they heard the door shut.

Papyrus had evidently not gone to Undyne the first time, so Frisk wondered if he was still waiting in the fog for a proper challenge. They rubbed the side of their face, feeling like a bad sport.

Their prison comforts remained unchanged, aside from the food dish. Someone had added hot dog slices to the kibble. Frisk giggled; it _was_ an improvement.

A fresh note waited beside the dish, which was equal parts confusing and heartwarming. Either Papyrus was incredibly fast, or he'd planned ahead. Or maybe Sans was helping him with all the Capture Zone stuff.

Even if they could've picked out the perfectly edible hot dog slices, Frisk didn't have much of an appetite. The last thing they'd eaten was a sticky-sweet Cinnamon Bunny they'd bought upon arrival in Snowdin Town. Then they'd stayed at the inn next door until they'd warmed up again.

They returned to the dog bed and curled up, half on the lumpy fabric, half on the wooden floor. Their shirt was snow-damp, and wind whistled in from gaps near the roof, but at least they'd gotten used to the smell.

Frisk let their heavy eyelids close, and resolved to rest enough for a proper rematch.

* * *

Frisk cracked their eyes open. First thing they saw was their hand, half-hidden under clean sheets. They shifted their head a little; the pillow was real.

They'd made it back to their bed in Toriel's house. But how? The door to the Ruins had shut and locked behind them, with no way back in.

Wait—Toriel must have gotten worried. She must have come after them. That explained the half-asleep memory of someone entering the shed and lifting them up.

They remembered Toriel being a lot more soft and furry, though.

Something in the room was producing light, reflecting off the wall Frisk was facing. Puzzled, they slowly turned under the warm covers to find the source.

A square of soft blue glowed in a far corner. Toriel hadn't had any computers in her house, or even a phone that did texting.

The monitor went out of focus as Frisk wondered when Toriel decided to upgrade. Collected thoughts scattered, and they relaxed.

Something rustled on the pillow behind their head. Frisk turned toward the sound, weightless.

A placid, smiling face stared back. Ringed with petals.

Flowey's eyes melted into bleeding hollows, his mouth a forest of rotting knives.

The terror, the screams—they didn't know which one woke them first. But both ended in hoarse sobbing, curled up with someone else's covers over their head, in an unfamiliar room, trapped under the people-eating mountain. Alone.

A doorknob squeaked, and Frisk's crying jerked to a stop. Booted footsteps entered.

"What's the matter? Is my excellent bed too exhilarating to sleep in?"

Frisk opened their eyes. Light filtered in through the covers. They poked their head out and blinked, teary-eyed, at the skeleton hovering over them.

"But this is the best place to sleep in the whole Underground! I should know!" Papyrus crossed his arms. "That dog bed sure wasn't cutting it. When I came in to make sure you hadn't escaped again, you were—"

Frisk had sat up by this point, wiping their eyes on the sleeves of their way-too-big sweatshirt, featuring a festively angry Gyftrot. They poked at the design with a confused frown.

"Ah, your kiddie stripes? They're drying downstairs," Papyrus said. "I'd forgotten how much snow those can absorb."

The terror from Frisk's nightmare shriveled in the face of unexpected skeleton kindness. Relief brought fresh tears, and they scrubbed at their eyes with both hands, trying to will them away.

Papyrus knelt next to the bed. "Ah, don't worry! Your stripes will soon return to you, one hundred percent less soggy than before!"

Frisk scooted forward and wrapped both sweatshirt-sleeved arms around Papyrus in a desperate hug, face pressed against his chest armor. Now the tears wouldn't stop.

"I'm sorry." Apologies wobbled out through the sobs. "I'm not good enough."

Papyrus seemed bewildered, but didn't pull away. After a few seconds, he placed his hands on Frisk's trembling shoulders. "I see where you're coming from. It's a never-ending journey to become as cool and smart as the great Papyrus." Frisk looked up at him. "That said, you're the best human I've ever laid eye sockets on. Because you're the only one!"

A smile pushed past Frisk's tears. Papyrus Logic brooked no argument.

Papyrus gave Frisk's hair an affectionate ruffle, then gently disengaged from them. As Frisk settled back under the covers, Papyrus stood, then struck a decisive, probably-rehearsed pose.

"However!" he declared. "Consider this treatment a one-time privilege. An act of sheer magnanimity!" He set his jaw in a dashing grin. "But when we meet again at the appointed place, you _will_ be captured, and for real this time!" He locked a sharp-eyed squint on Frisk. "Understand, human?"

Frisk gave him a drowsy nod, and pulled the covers up to their chin.

* * *

Frisk smoothed the last wrinkle from the covers on Papyrus's racecar bed. They'd found their striped shirt laid across the foot of it when they woke up, and changed out of the Gyftrot shirt. The stripes were soft, dry, and smelled slightly of cooking grease.

They felt rested and energetic at long last. But Frisk left Papyrus's room to find the rest of the house silent and empty.

Papyrus had to be waiting for them outside. Frisk's renewed optimism sank into the floor.

If they got past him, they'd be one step closer to returning to what they'd run away from. The entire reason they'd climbed the mountain in the first place. They hadn't meant to fall into the world of monsters, but that sort of thing happens to those too upset to see giant chasms in dark caves.

Frisk closed the front door behind them. Snowdin's chill wasn't so bad with their clothes clean and dry. They stared into the fog, considered their options, and started down the path.

A telltale silhouette materialized into view. Frisk waited until a familiar weight tinged their soul, then said, "I don't wanna fight you."

The silhouette tilted his skull. "What?! Giving up already?"

"I left home for a reason." Frisk stared at their shoes. "I didn't mean to fall underground, but if I go back, I... they wouldn't want me there."

The fog absorbed their words. Eventually, Papyrus's voice cut through the mist.

"Human. When I said 'You're blue now,' I meant your soul. What kind of jerk makes somebody feel bad, then tries to fight them?" He gasped. "Wait! Am _I_ the jerk?!"

"No, it's okay," Frisk said. "You're not a jerk. Monsters aren't really jerks, as far as I can tell." They raised their chin, hoping to make the equivalent of eye contact through the fog. "I won't fight you, but I can't stay here, either. So can I please just go through? I don't wanna be a burden on anyone."

A pause. "So you're not going to put up a fight?"

Frisk clenched their fists inside their baggy sleeves.

"Well, in that case!"

Boots scuffed in the snow ahead, and Frisk braced themself for bone hurdles.

Instead, their soul grew lighter. The blue magic was gone.

"In honor of your official surrender," Papyrus said, approaching to stand a few feet away, "I've decided that simply capturing you isn't enough."

Frisk looked up at him, muscles tense. They were too close to escape anything Papyrus was about to do.

"Because the great Papyrus can do _better_ than that!" He swept one arm skyward, then pointed at Frisk, air wooshing through his arm bones both times. "You're going to be my new roommate!"

Frisk's mouth dropped open.

Papyrus chuckled. "Took you by surprise, did I? Even I couldn't predict it!" He picked Frisk up, and sat them on his armored shoulders. They flailed a bit before balancing. "Prepare yourself for a tour of your brand new home!"

* * *

Papyrus had to let Frisk down from his shoulders before entering the house, but the rest of the tour went smoothly enough. He peppered colorful descriptions of his furniture with house rules.

"Rule number one: Don't do anything the great Papyrus wouldn't!"

Frisk poked at a rock covered in sprinkles. "What about all the stuff Sans does?"

"It's too late for him," Papyrus replied. "Rule number two: You _must_ have a taste for pasta of all shapes and sizes!" Frisk had no idea that pasta flavor varied by appearance.

Papyrus appointed the lumpy, saggy, jingling couch in the living room as Frisk's official bed. He said he'd pay a visit to the inn lady for an extra blanket—but first, Frisk had to accept Papyrus's next gift.

* * *

Sans came out of his room. Papyrus and the human hadn't seen him come through the front door earlier, because he never did. He took a seat at the table across from the new house guest, and watched them valiantly choke down a forkful of oddly-textured spaghetti.

"Hey bro." Sans tipped his chair onto its back legs. "So, mission accomplished, I see." He winked at Papyrus, who was vigorously stirring a pot of something sauce-colored on the stove.

Papyrus turned to Sans, holding the sauce spoon, and sporting an apron with a robo-rectangle posing on the front. "Two missions, actually. I made them my friend _after_ I captured them!"

"Nice work," said Sans. The human had frozen in place, spaghetti clamped firmly in their mouth. "Undyne stopped by my Waterfall post earlier. Sounds like she's expecting a delivery."

"What?!" The spoon slipped out of Papyrus's oven-mitted hands. He caught it, but not before it spun thrice in his retrieval attempts, speckling his apron with red flecks. "You didn't tell her that was still happening, did you?!"

Sans had witnessed that little scene in the fog. But this was too new, too important, not to make his brother sweat a little. "I wouldn't keep her waiting, bro. She might show up to see what's takin' ya so long."

Papyrus jabbed the wooden spoon into the sauce pot. "In that case, I'll take the human with me to my next cooking lesson! Then they can be friends with her, too! That way, no one I like has to have a salty experience over it!"

It was funnier not to point out the unintentional pun. The human seemed too preoccupied to notice, as they swallowed the pasta and tried to slow their shallow breathing.

"In fact, I'll run to her house right now and let her know!" Papyrus raced out of the kitchen, almost falling backwards when Sans caught him by the apron strings. " _Sans!_ I'm kind of in a hurry!"

"Just one thing I gotta ask ya." Sans twirled the strings around his fingers. "Almost nobody remembers the last time a human showed up here. Do you know how long we might have to wait for another one?"

"But Sans—" Papyrus fidgeted, indecision and a futile attempt to get loose equally evident. "I can't just hand them over! I upgraded them to _friend status!_ "

"Then why'd you capture them?"

Papyrus shooed Sans's hand away, undid the apron, and hung it on a convenient wall peg. "I—I captured their heart! It couldn't be more obvious!" He shoved the oven mitts in the apron's front pocket, then marched for the front door. "I'm going to tell Undyne that nobody has to get the bad kind of captured today!"

Papyrus slammed the front door after him. The human had just enough presence of mind to push their unfinished spaghetti plate away before collapsing on the table with their head in their arms.

Sans clunked all four chair legs back onto the kitchen tile. "Kid. I dunno what you're trying to pull, but it ain't gonna work."

The human took in a deep sobbing breath before answering in a creaky voice. "I'm not pulling anything."

"You're not the only stranger who's gotten chummy with my brother."

The human whipped their head up, face tear-streaked. "I'm not! I just..." A sob stole their words, and they buried their face in their arms again. "I don't wanna go back."

Sans waited while the child's small shoulders shook. "Then why'd you come through that door?"

"'Cause if I didn't, I..." They sniffled, and tried to calm down a bit before attempting more words. "If I stayed, then I'd be irresponsible."

"So you wanted to act responsibly. What changed your mind?"

It took another moment for the next reply. "You guys."

Sans shook his head, smile firmly in place. "Trust me, you don't wanna get involved in this mess."

"But you guys are nice." The human dragged a sleeve across their wet eyes, and nestled their cheek against folded arms. "The people where I come from aren't anywhere near as nice."

This sense of speculation was unfamiliar to Sans. Had he ever found out what the kid's deal was? In any case, he suspected they hadn't climbed the mountain to _begin_ anything.

"And Papyrus is okay with me being here, so I thought..." The human didn't look at Sans. "But if you're not okay with it, then..."

Sans had a distinct impression of something held just out of reach. "Believe me, I want a happy ending as much as anyone else. An outcome where no one has to make sacrifices. But that's not how the world works."

The human huddled into themselves with a haunted expression.

"Even if you make friends with every monster," Sans continued, "Asgore's not gonna back down on his human-hunting policy anytime soon. Not when we're this close to freedom. Big guy's too nice to risk disappointing the entire Underground."

They looked up with wide, red-rimmed eyes. So they'd heard of him already.

"But if you're not interested in crossing the barrier..." Sans shrugged. "Maybe there's another way."

The human waited, eyes on Sans.

"Tell him you want to stay. Heck, he might appreciate that."

They ducked their head back into their arms, but didn't break their gaze.

"But if you care about monsters that much, and you want to do the responsible thing... that power's yours."

He didn't have to wait long for the kid to hop down from their chair and rush for the front door. They probably couldn't catch up to Papyrus on those stubby legs, but things would work out somehow.

Sans left the table, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and headed for the heightened sink. A second later, he shoved the stone door closed behind him, and took a seat at his sentry station in Waterfall.

A quiet life with the human would've been nice, but then they wouldn't be the only one acting irresponsibly. Maybe they'd stay on the surface for good this time, so new and easy solutions wouldn't tempt him so badly.

The kid was all right, but Sans hoped they wouldn't try for the Skelebro Roommate Ending again.


End file.
